


when you’re gone i’ll still be Bloody Mary

by deepestfathoms



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blood, Blood and Violence, Concussions, Dark Past, Fighting, Fuck Mary Tudor, Head Injury, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Multi, Near Death Experiences, Religious Fanaticism, psychopathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24577897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfathoms/pseuds/deepestfathoms
Summary: The kids have come back.
Kudos: 50





	when you’re gone i’ll still be Bloody Mary

For better or for worse, the kids were alive and well again, and ever since then, the queens have changed. Everyone has noticed it- the sudden shift in behavior and attitude caught a lot of attention. Suddenly, they lost all their personality and just became a slave to the maternal mentality that awakens in their brains at the sight of their children.

First, there was Anne and Elizabeth. They didn’t look alike at all- Anne with her chocolate brown hair done in spacebuns and Elizabeth looking as if she was Merida from Brave- but they shared a similar gremlin-like gene. Anne was probably the least overbearing with her motherly attitude- she was still very much caring and loving, but she gave her daughter space and let her do whatever she wanted…which wasn’t exactly a good thing. Elizabeth had way too much freedom, especially towards Maggie, who would always get very quiet when the girl came around her. But Maggie tried, tried to be happy to see the girl again, and tried to be happy for her best friend, but her smile was very tight and forced, and pain would always flicker in her eyes whenever she saw the two together. She was dreading the worst- waiting for the sword hanging over Anne’s head to finally fall again.

Then there was Jane and Edward. Unlike her predecessor, Jane was extremely overbearing with the whole mum thing. She was always checking on her son, making sure he was happy and that everything was okay, and she pampered him constantly. Somehow, Edward didn’t seem to mind at all. He was basically living in the lap of luxury. Not even Kitty was bothered by this! She was just happy to finally get to be the big sibling in the family.

Thirdly, and most surprising, there was Cathy and Mae. The toddler actually appearing was a huge shocker to everyone, especially Cathy, but she took up responsibility for her daughter very quickly. She was very patient with the little girl, unlike Bessie, who had to leave the room whenever Mae would cry or even simply just giggle. Every time this happened, Cathy’s rage built up a little higher. It wouldn’t be long until she finally blew her top.

Finally, there was Aragon and Mary. It was easy to know that they were related; Mary seemed to get everything from her mouth when it came to looks- skin tone, eyes, hair, height, jawline, nose. However, there was one thing Mary inherited from her father: his bloodlust. Aragon, of course, didn’t acknowledge what her daughter had done at all. She was sheltering her mind from the crime, pretending it doesn’t exist because, to her, it didn’t if nobody brought it up. So nobody did.

Seeing all the kids was weird again, but Mary was by far the strangest, or at least to Joan. Mary appeared to be sixteen, maybe fifteen, so it was odd seeing her younger than Joan, but Joan pushed that aside and just tried to befriend the girl. After all, they had a common interest- having Aragon as a mother. Or, well, mother figure in Joan’s case. It wasn’t official yet.

“Hey, Mary!”

After everything was settled with the kid’s arrival was when Joan decided to make her move. She didn’t want to hold out much longer or it may seem impolite of her.

Mary turned to Joan, and Joan got a sudden bad feeling as she approached her further, like she was a sheep walking right into the den of a hungry hyena.

And now that it was mentioned, Mary kinda did look like a hyena. If Joan concentrated enough, she could almost smell the pungent, rank scent of death that clung to the girl as it did to the scavengers.

“Uhh. Hey.” Mary said. She was looking at Joan as if she were a dirty peasant clambering into her throne room. “And you are…?”

“Joan.” Joan said. “I’m the music director and pianist. Aragon and I are friends!”

Mary squinted at Joan. “Are you sure? Mother doesn’t mention you.”

“Well- maybe not as a friend, per se.” Joan scuffed her foot against the ground, trying her best not to do a giddy little happy dance as she said, “She- well, she sees me as a daughter!”

Mary blinked.

And then she started laughing.

The image of a hyena floated back to the surface as she did so- her laugh is barking and shrill. It grates Joan’s ears like barbed claws or scorpion stingers.

“You?” Mary asked for confirmation.

Now slightly flustered, Joan nodded.

Mary laughed again.

“Oh, that is adorable!” She wiped her eyes with a slim finger that seemed more like a talon. “Seriously, that is just too cute! My mother! Being yours!” Another chortle.

“It’s true!” Joan squeaked. Her voice is pitching and wavering slightly, which doesn’t help her case at all.

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Mary said. “In your dreams, maybe. Why would Mother ever want you as her daughter? What makes you so special?” She tilted her head at Joan, and Joan just managed by the skin of her teeth to not squirm under her gaze. It felt like the ex-princess was sizing her up….estimating how big the wooden stakes would need to be when she set her ablaze.

“I-”

“Actually,” Mary cut her off. “don’t answer that! No offense, but I don’t care.”

She swung around to leave, not giving Joan a chance to defend herself.

“Thanks for the laugh, June!”

She walked off, disappearing further into the theater and leaving Joan alone.

“…My name is Joan.”

———

It’s been five months since that first interaction, and Joan swore Mary had something against her. She always saw the girl glaring at her from a distance, like she was imagining how good her head would look on the end of a flaming torch.

It gave Joan the creeps, to say the least.

But it didn’t end there. Mary began to torment and taunt Joan constantly- whether it being teasing or purposely making her fuck up somehow, Mary tried to make Joan’s life a living hell. And when she tried to tell Aragon, the queen got mad. Like, really pissed off. Joan doesn’t tell her about the harassment anymore. Especially when she got terribly ill the next day.

The thought that Mary somehow poisoned her for snitching scares her even more.

What’s worse: Aragon was starting to spend a lot less time with Joan. That was natural, of course, but Joan’s jealousy just couldn’t handle it. Especially when it was Mary getting all the queen’s attention.

But what could she do? Aragon would never choose Mary over her.

———

The sound of her dressing room door shutting and the lock clicking snapped Joan out of her workaholic reverie. She snapped around and was startled to find Mary standing there, her hands pressed together and folded neatly against her stomach.

(Joan remembers something about the princess having several pregnancy issues. She wonders if those still exist within her after reincarnation, and if they’re the reason she’s so bitchy.)

“Can I help you?” Joan said impatiently. She didn’t have time or the coffee to deal with this right now- she had work to do.

“Yes, actually,” Mary said. She crossed the room in just a few quick strides; her movements were poised and confident- she knew what she was doing. “I just wanted to talk to you about Mother.”

“What about her?” Joan asked cautiously. Red flags are already going off in her head, if the fact that the ex-princess locked the door wasn’t enough to tell her that this situation seemed sketchy.

“Back off.”

“What?”

“Back off of Mother.” Mary said. Her voice is still languid and smooth, but there’s now an underlying firmness to it- a drop of poison in the honeyed words.

Joan didn’t know why she thought for even a split second that this was going to be a truce or an opportunity to finally make friends with the princess. She should have known she was walking right into Mary’s flaming claws.

“You know she never actually loved you, right?” Mary went on. “You didn’t believe it, did you? Be honest.”

Joan bit her tongue until she could taste blood. Her fingers clenched into fists, which Mary glanced at. The princess smirked.

“Of course you did.” She said. “I can’t blame you. You have nothing. Someone as meaningless and worthless as you has to cling to whatever they can get their hands on. It’s quite entertaining. Like dangling a carrot on a stick in front of you!”

“You’re lying,” Joan growled. She drove her fingernails into her palms even deeper until she felt the skin break open. “Aragon— She didn’t say that. She _wouldn’t._ ”

“I’m not.” Mary said smoothly. “Why would I lie to you, Joan? You know I don’t care enough about you to do that. God, just standing here and talking to you makes me worry that I’m gonna get some of your desperation and neediness rubbed off on me!” She laughed like a hyena. It hurts Joan’s ears.

Joan can’t reply. She can’t do anything but sit there and take the insults hurled at her. She does, however, flinch back in her chair when Mary walks right up to her and gently cupped her cheek.

Her touch feels like fire.

“I have to thank you, though,” Mary crooned in a way a mother would when talking to their child, her voice like sickly sweet venom. “For taking care of my mother. But there’s no need anymore.” She pats Joan’s cheek. “There’s no use for you any longer. So why don’t you do us all a favor and just go crawl into the hole you came out of and _die_.”

Joan’s breath hitched slightly. She lowered her head so Mary couldn’t see the glisten in her eyes, but she knew she did from the sneer above her.

And that’s what made the rage bubble up.

Joan’s anger was not a hot, volcanic thing, but rather a cold, resentful feeling that ran in her blood for a long time. Her chest would turn icy and she suddenly couldn’t care about anyone else. Only justice for her broken self esteem.

She grabbed Mary by the wrist and yanked her hand off of her cheek. This startles the princess, who staggers back for a moment, then narrows her eyes. Her other hand comes around fast and slaps Joan hard across the face.

Like that, something in Joan’s brain sparked to life. An instinct she didn’t even know she had in her. It told her to fight.

( _“We may be thieves, but we aren’t killers,” Her brother had once said. Ironically, he was sharpening an iron pick at the time. “But if you feel your life’s on the line, Joan, you fight back. Whether you like it or not, to you, your life is the most important thing in this world. Not mine, not any of your friend’s, your own. You should protect it.”_

_“Where should I hit someone?” Joan had asked. She remembered shifting anxiously after asking it._

_Her brother thought for a moment, tapping the pointy pick against his chin. Then, he smiled._

_“The knees or stomach. Then get them in the jaw to incapacitate them. Your nails and teeth are also your greatest allies.” His eyes went dark for a moment. “But…if you fear they’re trying to kill you, then go for the throat and **don’t let go.”**_ )

Mary didn’t see Joan coming, even when glowering right at her. She hadn’t been expecting her prey to spring out of the chair and barrel into her at full speed, but here she was, being driven back against the nearby makeup table, watching tabletop items scatter and clatter in various directions in slow motion, before senses returned to her in a flash and she felt the sparks that shot up her and alerted her brain of the threat.

Joan had her hands on Mary’s shoulders and one knee wedged between her legs, the plated bone pressing uncomfortably against the sensitive bundle of nerves her thighs would usually shield from harm. She pushed backwards, causing Mary’s back to bend against the table edge in a way that made it feel like her spine would snap if she didn’t get away quickly.

The princess squirmed, then finally got her arms free. She shoved against Joan’s chest, which caused her to stumble back slightly. It was enough of a chance for Mary, as she took her turn to do the ramming.

Both girls collapsed to the floor in a wondrous heap, where they tousled like angry cats. It was an awkward, but deadly dance they did on the floor until they ripped away and scuttled away for air. Scratches gleamed red and pink on their sweaty faces, like they just got into a fight with a sentient knife and lost. Bits of blood and flecks of skin cling beneath their nails.

“So you do have some fight in you,” Mary panted. If she was trying to make Joan angrier, it was definitely working. “I’m impressed.”

“I don’t quite appreciate compliments from murderers.” Joan grit.

Something flashed in Mary’s eyes- guilt? Terror? Trauma? For a split second, she almost looked like she felt bad for what she had done and what she was doing now. Joan could _almost_ see a girl in there who felt guilty about everything, and who maybe understood why it had been wrong.

But that girl was never going to be the one anyone saw.

“I am not!” Mary shrilled. “I was saving my people from those—those l _eeches!_ ”

“Saving them?” Joan scoffed. She struggles to her feet, feeling the scratches scattered across her body lighting up with fresh pain. “Is that what you call burning their friends to death?”

Mary bared her teeth. Joan flashes her own right back.

“Shut _up!_ ” Mary snapped. “You weren’t there, so you have no idea what I had to do or why I had to do it!”

“Why are you acting like this?” Joan said. “You have another chance! You can redeem yourself! Why are you wasting it by acting like such a bitch?!”

Mary lunged at Joan. Joan sidestepped just in time to avoid being rammed, but Mary moved again, too. She whipped around and drove her fist into Joan’s stomach.

All the breath in Joan’s lungs left her in a whoosh and a spray of saliva droplets that splattered onto Mary’s yellow-and-violet striped shirt. She staggered backwards, snaking her arms around her aching stomach tightly, and her knees buckled underneath her.

She’s had the wind knocked out of her more than once and she knew that in a few moments, she’d be fine again—or as fine as someone who’d just been socked in the gut could possibly be—but this wasn’t exactly the kind of situation where she had moments to spare for breath-catching.

And on top of that, the human body had a tendency to freak out when it couldn’t breathe. Like, a lot.

She choked and spluttered, mouthing like a fish out of water as she tried to pull air into lungs that just weren’t ready to get back on their feet yet. Through the oxygen-deprived haze that was covering her vision, she saw Mary’s bloodthirsty expression return to confidence, like Joan’s struggle for air sated her hunger for suffering for now. But it would be back.

It was only really then that Joan realized what she had gotten herself into.

Joan knew that she wasn’t going to get away from this bitch if she relied completely on pure strength. Mary was taller and stronger than she was, plus she was fueled by insanity, which seemed to supply her with an endless stream of energy. She wasn’t knowledgeable in combat by any means, but if Lara Croft has taught her anything, it’s that you need to use tactics. 

That thought of a possible plan was cut short, however, when Mary knocked her to the ground.

Pain rattled up Joan’s spine when she hit the floor. Fingers close around her throat; Mary was on her. Her hips are straddled and she’s pinned to the floor. She was being choked. She could feel the princess’ thumbs press down on her airways.

“Stop struggling!” Mary growled. “Just let it take you.”

Joan gags helplessly, clawing at the fingers around her throat. Even when she scratches Mary’s hands to bloodied shreds, she still doesn’t let go. She tries to gouge the princess’ eyes out, but her eyelids prove to be a strong barrier above the sockets, which she so desperately wanted to sink her nails into. Mary wrings her neck when she doesn’t stop and Joan choked, feeling pops and crackles shooting down her spinal cord.

“There we go…” Mary cooed when she saw Joan’s head flop to the side. She was still gasping like a fish out of water, but it wouldn’t be long, now. “Good girl.” She spoke to the music director as if she were a dog or one of her dead babies. “Such a good girl…”

Joan made a pathetic squeaking wheeze, which made Mary croon down at her alarmingly blue face pitifully.

“I would stroke your hair to help you along if I could,” Mary said. “But I can’t. I have to say, though, you are very obedient. Well trained. You make it too easy!”

Joan’s eyes were starting to roll back into her skull. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth, suddenly feeling like a block of heavy lead. The ice in her veins is smothered by Mary’s fire. It lights in her chest and incinerates her lungs to smoldering ashes. Her throat is being burned open from the princess’ burning touch.

This was it. She was about to die. In just a few moments, Joan’s strength would deplete, her neck would snap, and she would be just another body on Mary’s growing pile.

Then, it would all be over.

Cinders are stoked through all of Joan’s nerves, numbing them in a terrible, blistering way and rendering them useless. Her arms now lie outstretched, sprawled aimlessly across the floor. There, her fingers twitch against something.

Mary began to twist Joan’s neck back in a sickening, horrible way. She keeps her victim’s throat wrenched and was just about to snap it like she would a little bird when something sharp and pointy is stabbed into her lower stomach.

Mary shouts as zigzags of pain shot through her abdomen. She ripped her hands back to instinctively shield her stomach, as if she thought there may be a baby in her womb that she needed to protect. Instead, she just found a large thumbtack sticking out of her belly.

“You bitch!!” Mary shrieked at Joan, who was struggling to catch her breath.

She pulled the thumbtack out with a small squeak and her eyes widened at the sight of the glistening red blood that coated the tip.

Like before, a very guilty person appears in her eyes, and even on her face this time. She watched her blood slide down the length of the needle and drip off in thick droplets.

_Drip, drip, drip…_

Joan reared up like a furious ram, horns gleaming in the fluorescent lights, and slammed her entire body into Mary.

They both go down, but there’s a lot less scratching this time. Mary is jarred out of her trance and is momentarily stunned because of it. Joan lands sprawled on top of her, out of breath from that small effort alone. Her lungs and trachea just weren’t ready for that much action yet.

Still. She didn’t have any time to wait around, even as black spots fluttered across her vision each time she simply took a breath.

So, the one little part of her brain that was smarter than the rest of it was, the part that only seemed to awaken when she was in immediate danger or dying, spontaneously came back to life and drifted in over the panicked alarm bells in her head like the calm voice of the pilot’s intercom over the clamor of a falling plane full of hysterical passengers.

It was her brother’s voice.

_“Joan. Do you know how much bacteria is in a human bite?”_

She blinked her eyes.

Well. He wasn’t wrong.

“OWWW!!!” Mary howled as Joan clamped her teeth down on her ear. She could feel the incisors grinding against the earlobe and her golden hoop earring shifting uncomfortably. “What the FUCK?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Even in her pained and oxygen deprived daze, even when she couldn’t take in any air as she bites down, even as someone else’s blood seeped into her mouth, Joan still managed a small smirk.

 _Bet you’ve never got your ear bitten before,_ She thought. _Bitch._

Mary keened in pain, smothering her face against the tile floor. She couldn’t do anything but writhe with Joan on top of her. But it’s clear Joan was getting a little cocky and that she seemed to forget how clever psychopaths really were.

Not that a tabletop mirror lying nearby made Mary clever.

The entire right side of Joan’s head exploded into bright, colorful bursts of pain as the mirror smashed against it. The glass shattered and shards are driven into her scalp. Joan swayed and then slumped over, and Mary gave her the shove she needed to fully topple to the ground.

Mary scampered backwards and then gingerly felt her ear. It was bloody and already starting to swell up. Her earring was missing, too, leaving her earlobe split in two.

Silence filled the ransacked room- aside from Joan’s moans and raspy breathing, of course.

Then, Mary laughed.

“So what if I killed a few people?” She said as she shakily rose up to her feet. “Some people have to die for others to thrive! I was just…trimming out the fat! Culling the weak! It’s what you have to do to survive in this world.”

Joan just barely managed to look up at her. There’s twin streams of blood running down one side of her face. One crosses over her eye.

“Let me put it like this,” Mary said, sensing her disbelief. “Say you and the other ladies in waiting and queens were in…the apocalypse. Alright? And there’s a group of people who want to take this food supply you found. They’re innocent, but they’re not backing down and you and your group are starving. So…” She twirled her wrist. “You do what you need to do to survive and keep those of greater value alive.”

Joan shook her head as she braced herself on her arms. Her elbows shake treacherously, barely holding her up.

“You don’t…” She wheezed out. Consciousness wavered away from her for a moment. She thought she heard the doorknob wiggle, but it was just nothing. “You can’t…think…like that.” She finally said, each word punctuated with a wince, moan, or heavy gasp. “It’s not…right…”

“If you haven’t noticed, dear, nothing is right in this world. Not anymore.” Mary said.

“No thanks…to you,” Joan grit, and then was delivered a teeth-shattering blow to her jaw.

Mary stood over the girl. She lifts the leg she used to kick Joan with and stepped on her stomach. Bending the knee, the princess applied all her pressure onto Joan’s midriff, weighing her to the ground.

“Joey, this hurts me as much as it hurts you.” She said in that crooning, hyena voice of hers. “But you have to make sacrifices sometimes. You’re just dragging everyone here down. Nobody even looks at you anymore. I’m doing you a favor by putting you down.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Joan spat.

She lifted her head and Mary struck as fast as a bullwhip, pressing it back down to the ground.

“ _Don’t_ talk over me!” Mary snapped, her pitch raising slightly. She cleared her throat. “Everything will be fine. You’re just a little blind right now. I’m helping you!”

“That’s what they all say,” Joan gurgled. “But you’ll probably get all wrapped up in killing all over again and burn the whole theater to the ground, you fucking pyro. You’d love to watch this place go up in flames and then you’ll dance on the ashes while listening to the screams of-”

“I said to not talk over me!” Mary yelled, reaching down and digging her fingernails into the red hot crevices on the back of Joan’s head. She watches in amusement as blood comes frothing out of Joan’s mouth, which is hanging open in a silent scream.

Some of that blood sprays out slightly when her lips move to form words.

“I know…your reign…smelled like…burned flesh.” She hissed out.

Mary’s mouth pulled back in a snarl.

“You don’t know anything!”

She drops Joan’s head and steps back, letting her writhe on the floor like a stabbed snake. Then, she pulls a lighter out of her pocket and runs her thumb over the smooth sides as if she thought doing such an action would calm her.

“You barely even know me.” She growled. “Nobody does! People look at me like I’m some sort of demon! Do you know what that is like?”

“It’s what you deserve,” Joan croaked. “Because you are one.”

Mary’s eyes flash. Something in her head has cracked open and every bad thing in her twisted brain is now spilling out like thousands of spiders.

“You know, I was just messing with you before. I wasn’t actually going to let you choke to death.” She said. “But now? Now I’m going to fucking kill you.” She flicked the lighter open and watched the small flame burst to life. “And when I’m done, nobody is ever going to find you.”

Mary leaned down, holding the flame dangerously close to one of Joan’s cloudy eyes.

“Any last words?”

Joan’s last words aren’t really words, per se, rather a mouthful of blood she spits in Mary’s eyes.

The princess reared back in surprise and claws her face as if she thought she had been sprayed with acid. That’s enough for Joan to gather all her strength, draw her legs back, and then drive her foot right into Mary’s knees.

Watching the princess crumple and fall like a broken doll was the highlight of Joan’s entire day. She couldn’t celebrate, though, because she knew Mary would be getting up soon, so she scrambled over to the broken tabletop mirror, raised it over her head, and—

The door flew open.

A scream.

Several screams.

There’s a whizz of gold- Aragon is rushing in. But not towards Joan, who is substantially the more injured one of the two. No, instead, she’s shoved roughly to the side and that’s finally what her conscious needed to cut out.

———

Joan awoke to blinding pain. She was moaning before she could even get her eyes open, which were much heavier than they normally were. She tried to pry them open, but that effort alone nearly made her pass out again. A muddled voice speaks to her…she thinks it’s telling her to calm down.

Something stings against Joan’s head. She whimpers sharply and tries to squirm away, but she can’t move.

“Hey. Sit still.”

Joan moaned again. She can taste copper on her tongue. It makes her stomach churn.

“Joan. Please sit still.”

Her eyes open. Light stabs into them, but she manages to make out the figure of Anne sitting beside her. She blinks dazedly at the woman.

“A…Anne…?” She croaked. Her throat hurt so much. Every word seemed to make it cave in on itself until she felt like she was choking on the syllables and enunciation.

“Hush.” Anne said. There wasn’t even a flicker of goofiness in her at that moment- her face was completely stoney and serious. “Don’t speak.”

“Wh…what…” Joan spoke anyway.

“I said, don’t talk, Joan. You’re hurt.” Anne said. “I shouldn’t even be doing this after what you did, but—”

Her voice cut off. Joan blinked up at her and saw that she’s staring at her neck.

Anne gagged. Joan’s eyes widen in alarm as the woman sprints out of the room with one hand over her mouth. She waits, but Anne does not come back.

Joan rolled off of the couch she’s lying on, recognizing the room she’s in as the shared dressing room between Cathy, Jane, and Kitty. She staggered over to the mirror, feeling like her head was about to explode with every step she took, and looked at what exactly made Anne feel so sick:

The dark, near-black bruise that encircled the entirety of her neck in the horrifying shape of hands.

—

Joan didn’t know how long she laid on that couch, feeling like her brain was oozing out through every orifice. In reality, it was probably only thirty minutes, but it was like an eternity to her before Aragon walked in.

Joan tensed, flinched, and waited to be hit or arrested by a swarm of cops that had been called, but Aragon just sits beside her head. She’s only glanced at for a moment.

“Elizabeth told me everything.” Aragon said grimly. “What Mary said…and did.”

So Joan _had_ heard someone outside the door.

“I…I’m sorry, Joan.” Aragon whispered. “I’m so sorry… I thought she would be good this time. If I just raised her right, then she wouldn’t be the same and everyone could forget about what she did, but…”

She looked down at Joan- at the horrible bruise around her throat. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh my god…” She whispered. It’s obvious she didn’t think the wounds were that bad. “Oh, Joan… Oh, my sweet baby girl…”

She covered her face with her hands and began to cry, but didn’t dare touch Joan. It’s like she was scared of hurting her, too.

Joan watched her mother figure weep before gathering her strength and crawling forward so she could rest her head in Aragon’s lap. The queen gasps softly in surprise and then wraps Joan in her arms, sort of forgetting to be gentle.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Aragon sobbed. “I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t know— I didn’t—”

Joan can’t speak, so she just nuzzles Aragon as best as she could.

“We’ll get you help, baby.” Aragon told her. “I’m going to call the police. Mary will never lay a finger on you again, I promise.”

“Mama…” Joan choked out, head spinning.

“I’m right here, sweet girl.” Aragon said as she dialed the emergency line.

 _“999, what’s your emergency?”_ The operator answered.

“Please, I need an ambulance.” Aragon begged. “My daughter was attacked.”


End file.
